Soulful,Sleepyheads
by thesixtyfirstpupil
Summary: A story about two sad, soulful, sleepyheads. Martha/Moritz. First multi chapter. REVIEW PLEASE :3
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Belong to Wedekind, Sater, and Sheik. **

**My first multi chapter fic. Martha/Moritz because I haven't seen any of this couple. I'm going to try and see how this works. Enjoy! **

* * *

Martha Bessel had never talked much. She was always a quiet, reclusive child. She kept her grades up and behaved like she was supposed to. She always wore long sleeves, even in warm weather. Some days she limped or winced when one of the other girls grabbed her arm. But no one said anything about it.

Moritz Stefiel never did well in school. He was so skittish and nervous. He was almost like a rabbit, hopping around everywhere. He nearly almost came to school late, barely making it to class. He just wished he could somehow make it end.  
Latin. Equations. Essays. Homework. Moritz clenched and unclenched his hands, stomping through the meadow. It was already all too much. And with the middle terms coming up, he had been studying like crazy. He didn't know what he would if he failed those. Moritz stopped at the bridge. Martha was lying across it, her eyes closed. He had never talked to Martha but she had played pirates with them once or twice. What was she doing all the way out here?  
"Martha?" She opened her eyes.

"Moritz!" She had rolled her sleeves up but she quickly pulled them down. Moritz thought he saw bruises. "What are you doing here?"  
"I was about to ask you the same thing" he said. Martha smiled.

"We haven't talked much." It was true. He, Ilse, and Martha had been like the Three Musketeers when they were children. Of course they grew up and grew apart.

"Well, yes" she said "My father doesn't really like me talking to any of the boys"

"Oh?" She shook her head.

"He has a good reason. N-Not saying that—you shouldn't talk to…me…uh…" She giggled. She had never admitted it to the other girls but she had quite a crush on Moritz Stefiel. She liked his messy hair and skittish demeanor. It was charming. But, of course they wouldn't understand. They were all pining after Melchior Gabor.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"School. Chores. You?"

"School" he spat in disgust. She knew very well that he didn't do well in school. He was next to Ernst Robel.

"Oh. How is it?"  
"If it weren't for Father, I would pack my bags and head to Frankfurt. Maybe take a boat to America. At least I wouldn't have to worry about that Latin essay." His eyes widened.

"Christ! That's due tomorrow! I'm sorry Martha I have to go!" he said, scrambling up.

"Can we meet again?" she asked. He stopped.

"Here; Tomorrow. Maybe you can help me study."  
"I-I'm not that ….smart." she said, blushing.  
"Nonsense. I heard you're grades are equal to Melchior."  
"I guess so." Moritz muttered his goodbye and ran off. In his rush, he didn't notice the wad of papers that had fallen from his pocket.

"Moritz! You forgot…." But he was already gone. Martha unfolded the papers. The Art of Sleeping With

Martha and Moritz spent many hours by the bridge. She didn't dare tell him that she had that….particular essay. She wasn't even sure if he noticed it was gone. But she still had it. Martha had read it through and through. It had shocked her. Had Moritz all that? Everyone kept mum about babies and lovemaking. No one spoke much of it. But that essay had been so….striking. Vivid. She still couldn't shake it from her mind. If her father knew she was in possession of that essay, he would beat her senseless. But he knew what it was. Of course he knew what it was. Martha shivered.

"Again" she said.

"Uh… Arma virumque cano…"

"Yes…?" Moritz started at his palm.

"Troiae…qui primus ab oris." He screwed up his face in thought. "Italiam, fato….profugus, Laviniaque venit litora-"

"We'll stop there" she said, setting down the book. "You're getting better, though." Moritz ran his hands through his flyaway hair. He had been dazing off the past couple of days. He always seemed to be tired.

"Moritz, are you all right?"

"No! I've been studying every night, all night. I can barely keep my eyes open during lessons. I just don't know what I'm going to do if I don't pass these exams." He began packing away his things. "And what's worse is that I lost Melchior's essay!" Martha perked up.

"What essay?" she asked.  
"About, uh….things."

"Oh."  
"Martha?" She looked up. "Have you ever wondered…..why we're here?" She was intrigued by his question.  
"Why would you ever doubt our existence?"  
"I've been thinking about it and it seems to me we all here to be tested. Because one of us has to fail. The upper grade only holds sixty. It's either me or Ernst Robel!" Moritz exclaimed. "It seems to me that we have no definite purpose in life." "Huh. I never really thought about that. What do we have to show for all the grades and money in the end?"

"Exactly!" He scooted closer to her. "It doesn't really matter in the end, does it?"

"It does matter, when you stand before God and tell Him what you've done with your life" Moritz pulled his knees up to his chest.

"I don't think I believe in God anymore."  
"Moritz!" Martha gasped "You shouldn't say things like that!" He looked at her.

"Why then are the Church and God against lovemaking? Why are they against something so….natural? So pure!" They had grown quite close together, in the heat of their argument. She could feel his breath on her face.

"I-I don't know, Moritz." He realized how close they were and pulled away. He stood up, slinging his satchel across his shoulder.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked, offering his hand. She smiled.

"Of course."

* * *

**Review? :3 **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Doon't own. Belong to Wedekind, Sater, and Shiek.**

**I'm not sure if I'm going to change the rating for the story because this chapter is... I'd have to say more intense than I originally planned. Tell me what you think. And I think I'm going to write a little 'In The Heights' oneshot later ;).**

* * *

"I passed! I passed!" Moritz shouted, running towards her. "I passed the middle terms, Martha!"

"Moritz, that's wonderful!" He hugged her. They stood there for a moment, holding each other on the bridge. Martha pulled away.

"Do you know that essay that you said you lost?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"You dropped it, on the first day. I brought it home with me." Moritz's eyes widened.

"Did….Did you read any of it?" Martha nodded.

"Oh, well, um…" She took the essay out from her dress.

"It's a very….interesting essay." He took it tentatively. "Did you write all that Moritz?"

"NO! No, of course not. Melchior did" he said

"Melchior, wrote that?"

"Yes. I-I asked him to." Moritz blushed.

"Why?"

"I…I was confused. No one speaks of these things. I felt ashamed asking someone." He stuffed the essay in his pocket.

"What is there to be ashamed of?" she asked. He looked at her as if she was crazy."Well, everything. The anatomy and how everything….works. It's all so complicated. And it just boggles my mind!" he said "Aren't you at least a bit confused?"

"A bit" said Martha "But….my father…told me these things." It was a lie, of course. He had never told her. He had shown her.

"He did?" he asked.

"Yes…when I was younger" she said, pulling at her sleeves. "We should get on to studying for the finals."

"But they aren't until April!" Moritz exclaimed.

"Still. It's best to be prepared." They spent the rest of the time going over quadratic equations. As their meetings wore one, Martha began to pull more into her shell. She barely talked and was always rubbing at her arms.

"Are you all right, Martha?" he asked, when he saw that she had winced when he touched her arm.

"I-I'm fine" she said "You should do that one again." Moritz wanted to say something, but didn't.

* * *

Martha opened the door as quietly as possible. It shut with a click.

"Martha?" She froze.

"Martha, darling?" She licked her lips.

"Yes, Mama?" she asked.

"Your father wants to see you in his study." Her stomach dropped. Please. Not today. Please, please, please no.

"Mama—"

"Go. Now" Martha squeezed her eyes.

"Yes, Mama" she whispered. She walked slowly down the hall, her heart pounding. Maybe he was sober tonight. Maybe he wouldn't do it. Just maybe. The hall seemed to stretch on. Martha's hands shook as she turned the knob.

"Papa?" she said.

"Come in, my child" Herr Bessel said "Lock the door will you?"

"Papa, please—"

"Lock the door." Martha turned the lock. The click resounded in the silence. She knew she wouldn't be getting out.

"Sit, my sweet" he said, gesturing to the chair in front of him. He had his hand wrapped around a bottle of liquor. Her heart clenched.

"So where have you been going all these afternoons?"

"To the bridge" she replied.

"Oh? Why?"

"It's…It's calming." Herr Bessel took another swing of liquor. "And I've been helping Moritz Stefiel with his studies." She saw anger flash through his eyes.

"Moritz Stefiel? That bumbling imbecile?"

"Y-Yes. But he's very nice, Papa, and he really needs help."

"But what have told you about talking to boys" her father said, leaning in closer.

"Not to talk to them"

"Never." Martha stared at the floor.

"You have disobeyed me." Her head snapped up.

"Papa—"

"For that you must be punished."

"Papa!" she exclaimed. Herr Bessel stood up, the bottle falling from his hands. The liquor spilled all over the carpet. Martha bent down to pick it up.

"Don't you dare pick that up, young lady!" he screamed. He grabbed her arm, belt in hand. He roughly rolled up her sleeve. The line of welts revealed themselves.

"Let's add another pretty buckle shall we?" he asked.

"Papa, no!" He yanked her out of the chair. Martha held back her screams as he created more angry welts on her arms. She couldn't scream. If she screamed, Mama would scold her as well. He finally stopped, dropping the belt. He kneeled beside her.

"I'm sorry, my child" he whispered "Let me make it better." Herr Bessel began planting kisses on her bruised arm. He kissed up her arm and lingered at her neck.

"Papa, don't—"she said, trying to squirm away.

"Hush, child. No one will know" he said. Martha turned away. She could feel his breath on her face. It stank of liquor and cigarettes.

"Look at me, Martha." She raised her gaze. He took her face in his hands.

"Papa—"

"I love you, Martha. I love you more than anything." She began to sob. He didn't love her. If he loved her, he wouldn't do this to her

"Come, child." He kissed her hand and walked over to the couch. "Lay with me"

"Papa, no—!" But he pulled her off floor and shoved her onto the couch.

"Papa, don't!" Martha shrieked. She kept her eyes shut, wishing for this to all end.

* * *

**Review ? :3 **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sater, Sheik, and Wedekind. **

**So sorry for the lack of chapters. I've been busy with school and crap. This one is a bit shorter and probably not as good. :/ Oh well. ENJOY! **

* * *

Martha didn't show up at the bridge for weeks. Moritz still went, hoping that she would be there. But she never was. He began to think he wouldn't see her again. Moritz trudged through the halls, dragging his books under his arm. He didn't want to go home and face Father.

"This is impossible!" Moritz stopped. He saw Herr Sonnesicth and Frau Knuppeldick standing outside the headmaster's office. He dived behind a corner.

"You know that we can't allow sixty one pupils in the upper grade. The room upstairs doesn't accommodate that many" said Herr Sonnesicth "It's between Robel and that imbecile Stefiel."

"I know, Viktor. But whose grades are better? Robel's or Stefiel's?" asked Frau Knuppledick.

"Stefiel's of course. But Robel has much more potential." Moritz was taken aback. At least his grades were above Ernst's.

"So who will we fail?"

"We shall soon find out, come the final terms" said Herr Sonnestich "But for now we shall keep them both." The headmaster's door swing open and they both stepped inside. Moritz drew back from the corner. He sighed. It seemed that he wouldn't be getting into the upper grade. He only hoped that his final exam grades were better than Ernst's. He walked sullenly past the bridge and saw Martha.

"Martha! I haven't seen you in weeks!" Moritz exclaimed, running towards her. "Where have you been?"

"Sick" she muttered.

"That's all?" Martha nodded.

"We should get on with those equations" She gave a weak smile and opened the book.

"Martha, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Yes, something's wrong. What is it, Martha?"

"I…I can't tell you."

"You can't tell me?" Martha shook her head.

"Why not?" She felt tears begin to prick her eyes.

"Because it hurts" Moritz took her hand.

"Because what hurts?" He was so close to her now. He could reach over and kiss her, if he wanted to. Martha rolled up her sleeves. Moritz's eyes widened at the splotches of black and purple. He felt anger flare in him.

"He beats me" she whispered.

"Who? Who beats you?" He was still in horror of what he saw. Who would beat her? Who would beat sweet, innocent Martha?

"My papa." His hands instantly balled into fists. What was it with fathers? Why did they use and abuse their children.

"And you haven't told anyone?" he asked. She shook her head.

"If I did, they'd throw me out. Like Ilse." Moritz remembered their old friend, who had told the preacher that her father beat her. Ilse was on the street the next day. Moritz wrapped his arms around her and let Martha cry on his shoulders. This was the closest thing to love she had felt in a long time.

* * *

**Review? :3 **


End file.
